We’ve never met, but I feel like I know you. You see, my office extension used to be your work number. I know this because even though this number has been assigned to me for a year now, I still get calls for you on a regular basis.
You’d be amazed how much I know about you, Paul. It’s eerie in a way. At least to me it is.
I know you not just by Paul, but by Mr. Paul A….. That’s how your former business associates ask for you.
I know the name of the company you worked for. I tried to locate you so I could forward your calls, but apparently you no longer work there.
You get lots of calls from telemarketers, and they are almost always medical suppliers. Are you OK, Paul?
I find myself wondering about you from time to time. Did you retire from your job? Did you quit, or were you fired? Were you forced out because of your medical condition? Do you have health insurance?
We used to be a nation divided by those who had insurance and those who didn’t. Folks like us put up with the shittiest work environments because we had to keep our insurance. To change jobs meant risking losing our coverage because of a pre-existing condition. It saddens me to think we’re going back to that place because our elected officials don’t believe health care is a right.
But I can’t only blame the white men in suits in D.C., because we are the ones who put them in office. Are we really so hard-hearted that we would pass laws forcing a woman to bear a child with severe deformities, then make it ridiculously expensive, if not impossible, for her to obtain health care for her baby?
I’m also a blogger, Paul, and I know that a significant portion of my readers are optimists convinced we will eventually allow our better natures to take over. I am the opposite; I see a nation of people who, instead of blaming the fat cats who ruined our economy, chose to blame each other and give those fat cats still more of our sweat and hard-earned money. You don’t easily overcome that kind of stupid.
I hope you’re OK, Paul. And if you’re not, I hope you’re one of the lucky ones with the means to get the care you need.
Now forgive me but I must take my leave, and shoo my readers back to their shitty jobs.